


Bondshots

by Geeeny



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: And Rey is no one, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bendemption, Dreamsharing, F/M, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo Ren needs no one!, Nightmares, POV Ben Solo, Presumed Dead, Rey Needs A Hug, dreamkiss, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geeeny/pseuds/Geeeny
Summary: A collection of several short stories or oneshots about two idiots who are going to smooch in TROS.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Reylo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. A kiss to soothe your nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben having nightmares? Not on Rey's watch!

His sleep had never been peaceful, or at least brought a little rest to his ever-racing mind. But he had thought Snoke’s death might have reduced the nightmares, since they had been one of his favorite tools to keep him in line.

He’d thought sleep could actually be his safe haven now, his escape from the burdens of reality.

He’d been wrong.

He was back on Starkiller, freezing cold at his back and the scorching heat of a lightsaber in front of him. His scars bled and throbbed with pain, the familiar, ghostly blue glow blinding him. Strained groans left his throat and his heart contracted painfully as Rey towered over him. Saber raised, ready to strike him down once and for all she was as horrifying as she was beautiful. With a feral scream she brought her weapon down on him, but suddenly the scenery changed and it was his voice that formed the battle cry, and her chest that was pierced by his saber. The forest was gone, instead he stood in Snoke’s throne room again, and while his Master laughed and cackled over his apprentice’ deed, Rey’s body went limb before him.

“No!”

He fell to his knees beside her and pressed his hands on her wound, but even though he had once learned how to heal someone with the Force, it refused to obey his command.

“Kylo...”, she mumbled, her face painted in anguish and her lip quivering in effort to form the word.

“No, wait! I... I didnt...!”, he uttered with fear in his trembling voice, not knowing what he was trying to say himself. “You can’t... Rey, I would never...”

“Ah, but you have, my apprentice.”, Snoke mocked him. “Just like you have extinguished every other weakness of your past.”

Suddenly Rey and the throne room disappeared and he stood on the white salt fields of Crait. The rebel base was nothing more than a smoking hole in the mountain. And around him... Oh god, no...

“Mother!”, he whispered and fought to get back on his feet.

Leia’s body was motionless on the ground, surrounded by hundreds, no, thousands of other resistance members. All dead, showing cauterized injuries that could only be inflicted by a lightsaber.

“Monster!”, Rey yelled at him and he jumped, all of a sudden back at the throne room and oh, his scars hurt and Rey didn’t stop adding new ones. Snoke laughed in the background, Rey’s corpse at his feet, while the other Rey slashed his skin open with his grandfather’s saber. Was he on Starkiller, the Supremacy, Crait, or all at once?

He couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he was pain and fear and loss. Everything carved him up, but was there anything left of him at all? How could it be that he was crushed and destroyed and ripped apart but he was still in pain? Why didn’t it stop?

Screams left his lips, followed by desperate, pathetic sobs, until a new voice reached his ears. She called his name, his real name, and the nightmares fled from the sound of her steps.

He knelt panting on the floor, one hand supporting his weight while the other clawed at his chest, as if to make sure he wasn’t falling apart any moment.

“R-Rey...”, he heard himself utter, not daring to look up yet. Was this, was _she_ real? Or was she another part of his nightmares?

 _I shouldn’t feel like this_ , he thought and tried to regain his composure. He shouldn’t allow himself to hope for her presence, for her to soothe the aching inside him.

Her steps sounded closer now and her feet came into view, tentatively, almost shaky.

“Ben? Are you... real?“

He didn’t know. He really, _really_ didn’t know.

But was she? And if she was, had she seen his nightmares?

She took another step, and another, until she was directly in front of him. A callused, but so incredibly gentle hand touched his cheek and he lifted his head just a tiny little bit.

She watched him carefully, caring. Her small figure surpassed him only by a bit - for he was still on his knees - and she looked rather unsure. But her hand at his cheek was steady and kind. Lids lowered and her gaze so full of different emotions, she looked like something ethereal, something too divine to be anything other than a dream. He could only guess how much of a pathetic mess he was on the other hand.

“You’re alive.”, he breathed quietly and looked around to make sure the other Reys had disappeared. “You’re... I thought...”

Her hand - the one that didn’t caress his cheek - wrapped itself around the cramped fist at his chest and he realized he’d been shaking.

“Shh, it’s okay.”, she murmured and the hand at his face travelled up to his hair, combing in calm strokes through the strands behind his temples. “I’m here, Ben, see? Not a scratch, and neither have you.”

A deep, thankful sigh left his lips and he intertwined his fingers with hers. Had he stopped breathing for a while? How could she affect him this much?

But the longer she kept talking to him in that soothing voice of hers, the more his wariness faded. He dreamed, didn’t he? It was not like she was really here, right? So what if he allowed himself to enjoy her attention... And how could he fight her if she was this caring, this utterly tender. She looked just like that night after she visited the dark cave. When they reached across the galaxy, just for a little touch.

And what if she returned to be part of his nightmares again? What if she died again? No, no, no, he wouldn’t be able to watch this again.

He had to swallow several times until he trusted his voice enough to speak again.

“Don’t go away. Please... don’t leave me alone.”

Her hand in his hair froze and he tensed, dreading her to leave and allowing the nightmares to return.

Instead she pulled her hand back from his hair and placed it under his chin. He let her lift his face, too astonished, too intoxicated by her proximity to do anything else than comply.

As her lips brushed his he was sure to have imagined it. Only as she was already pulling back he realized what was happening. She gasped as he reached for the back of her head and recaptured her mouth in a yearning, desperate kiss.

This was not real. It couldn’t be, because there was no way something real could feel this good.

His eyes fell closed and he shut out everything except her, wanting to feel nothing but the way her hands clenched around the hair at his neck, or how the little sounds she made sent shivers up and down his spine.

When they eventually had to separate, their breath came in uneven puffs and he was dizzy - if of lack of air or joy, he didn’t know. Probably both.

“You’re not alone.”, Rey breathed and leaned her forehead against his. “Never.”

Something like a blissful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes fell shut again.

The next time he opened them, he was back on his bed aboard the Supremacy, safe and sound and awake. Rey was nowhere to be seen, but the ghost of a kiss still lingered on his lips.

Had she been real? Or a trick of his imagination?

He closed his eyes again and tried to recall every little moment.

If she’d been there... if it was truly Rey who’d kissed him, Rey he’d kissed _back_... he found he didn’t mind.

He definitely _didn’t kriffing mind._

Force. He was in trouble.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is presumed dead and Ben handles it like a champ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an older piece of mine I never posted, so my style of writing was still a little more cheesy

He’s never been one to stay on the ground. Even if he tries to stay reasonable, his temper always gets the better of him and sends him flying right over the edge of his mind.

One of the reasons he joined the First Order.

Only since meeting _her_ he has the unfamiliar feeling of... well, not exactly earthing, but hold, support, _security_. Even if she is miles away, fighting against everything he fights for, the calming sensation of their connection soothes him.

He is no longer at the edge of sanity, instead he only sees it from afar, as if he stood behind a glass window.

He is no longer a toy, tossed back and forth by his moods, instead she holds him tight, as if her arms protected him from his own raging emotions.

He has never felt more sheltered or more complete as during the few times their bond allows them to see each other. Even when they argue - which happens a lot - her presence always provides him a blissful sense of... home.

Until he ruined it, once again. 

-

“Ready to fire in a few seconds, Sir.”

“Permission to fire granted.”, Hux replied eagerly, almost drooling as Mitaka finished his last preparations.

Kylo Ren barely took note of his surroundings. His attention was directed at the figure appearing beside him.

This happened a lot these days, and the _Supremacy's_ crew had grown used to his occasional retreats in the middle of meetings or maneuvers.

Nobody looked up as he strode across the catwalk and into a separated area of the bridge. Close enough to oversee the actions at the control panels, but far enough to talk to her unnoticed. He never missed an opportunity to talk to her.

“Rey!”, he greeted her, her name a song of itself. She looked up and he drank her in, every detail of her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. It took a moment before he noticed the rushed, no, _hunted_ expression in her beautiful face. He still couldn’t see her surroundings, even after all this time, but she looked... scared. He frowned. Something was wrong. He’d never, _never_ seen her scared, not like this.

“Rey, what’s happening? Are you alright?”

No, she wasn’t. She certainly wasn’t, and as she spoke, voice soaked in fear, it dawned upon him why.

“Don’t... Don’t tell me you are...!”

“Fire!”, Hux yelled from the frontside of the bridge and Kylo spun around. _Impossible_ , he thought panicking, there were dozens of rebel bases. The resistance had grown stronger over the past year again, and he knew Rey was on a journey to rebuild her lightsaber. She couldn’t be back yet, and certainly not at this particular unlucky base!

“Wait!”, he heard himself shout, but it was already to late. Helpless he had to track the green beam of energy with his eyes as it left the canon, aimed at the defenseless building below his fleet.

He turned around to Rey, who watched him with an eerily sad acceptance in her eyes, and all his hopes he was mistaken vanished.

He reached out to her in despair, his fingers meeting hers in the exact same moment the beam found its target. For a split second he felt her skin against his, an agonizingly sweet, but so transient moment, before he felt the connection sever.

She disappeared in a flash of green, eyes locked with his.

Her embrace was ripped from him.

Glass shattered.

And he was exposed to his greatest fears and nightmares dragging him to the chasm and drowning him in the abyss.

He couldn’t breathe, could hardly do anything at all except to shout orders at Hux to prepare his ship. They found nothing in the remnants of the base. Nothing but dust and ashes. No survivors. Not even corpses. Nothing.

-

He doesn’t know how he can still be alive, why he isn’t dead already. How is he supposed to take another step if she’s not with him any more. There is no gentle brush of her thoughts against his mind, no one to keep him sane.

The bond he worships so much is a dead end. It feels like a broken lifeline, floating useless through the merciless void of space while he suffocates in the abyss of his mind.

But time drags by and somehow he still walks and talks and listens to Hux‘ meaningless complaints and he needs a few weeks to realize he isn’t dead and _won’t be_ all that soon. Why won‘t he die? Didn’t he die already? He can’t feel, why isn’t he feeling, why isn’t he feeling _her_? She has to be somewhere, has to have survived, because there‘s no way, no way she‘s...

But obviously there is, and so he screams and screams and screams until a medical droid enters his room to sedate him.

Unfortunately, Hux hasn’t noticed his breakdown, otherwise he might have taken the chance and shot him while Kylo slept a drugged sleep full of nightmares.

It takes another few weeks until Kylo realizes he can stop thinking, _feeling_ , when he fights, so he does exactly this: he fights, and he kills, and he pierces his ‘saber through anything that comes in his way.

He doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t need to know as long as something is able to numb the pain.

It goes on like this for a while. Fighting, winning, killing.

_Don’t think. Don’t remember._

But in his sleep he does, and when he wakes he‘s bathed in sweat and tears and pain, so much pain that he cannot breathe. But somehow he always survives and goes back to his simple pattern.

Fighting, winning, killing.

It‘s all he is without her.

-

He can see his target, the main building, from afar as he runs his lightsaber through someones - anyones - torso and strides on to his next opponent. X-Wings cut through the air like torpedoes and try to keep him from reaching the generator that protects the base from the storms outside the shield.

He‘ll destroy it and watch the resistance fighters ripped out of the sky by the whiplash-like gusts. It’ll stop the pain for a few moments, hopefully.

So he fights and wins and kills until he’s in front of the shield generator. If he’s lucky maybe this time the explosion or the storms afterwards will kill him. Indifferent he raises his saber, ready to split the big humming machine in two, as a movement catches his eye and suddenly there is a beam of blue that blocks his red blade. The fierce strength behind the action surprises him, he looses his foothold and falls back a little. The icy surface makes it difficult to stand securely, and when he manages to he’s a few foot further behind than planned.

He looks up to his new opponent — and freezes. It’s dark out here and the only light radiates from his crackling blade and the blue ones in front of him.

It’s a saberstaff, a roughly made one, but it stirs something inside him he tried desperately to keep at bay.

He can’t look behind it’s blazing glow, he can’t, because if she‘s not there he knows the wound will tear up again. And the abyss will swallow him whole.

“Ben”, he hears her say. It’s _her voice_ , every tone is hers, and now he can’t help but look up.

And there she is.

Bruised, still injured, but ready for combat and a firm glow in her eyes. So strong and fierce and alive, and she’s never been more beautiful.

His saber falls to the ground and extinguishes, but he barely notices. All he can see is Rey, how her shoulders tense when she breathes, how her grasp around the hilt of her staff tightens, how she lives and thrives right in front of him.

“Rey”, he croaks , his voice hoarse and rusty from screaming. She’s looked angry - can he blame her? - but it turns into surprise when he takes two wobbly steps, falls to his knees and wraps his arms around her. 

She’s so small, even on his knees he reaches up to her waistline. He can’t do anything but cling on to her and marvel at how her lungs breath or her heart beats, because that‘s what it is; a marvel, a miracle, and he‘s so thankful he can’t stop himself from sobbing.

He cries her name and holds her tighter.

In his gratitude he nearly misses how she too lets her weapon fall and bends over until her face is buried in his hair. Her arms wrap around his neck as she sinks to her knees and simply holds him. Pure, unclouded bliss floods him and he sighs her name, still amazed at the simple fact that she’s living. He doesn’t know if Hux or someone else sees him now, but he doesn’t care.

All he knows is that when he inhales and this special scent of oil and metal and sun fills his nostrils, it‘s like he‘s been drowning forever and this is his first breath of fresh air.

It‘s like she pulls him out of the sea, back to the safety of dry land.

He’s not torn through the sky anymore, but he’s not on the ground either.

Instead he floats weightless, but as long as he has her arms around him, it’s okay.

Like an abated storm.

Like soothed waves.

Like coming _home_.


End file.
